Dear Diary
by abe.normal
Summary: Sixteen years old and with a dishonourable discharge from Beauxbatons...


Dear Diary.   
Due to a minor trifle my parents has been notified that my presence is no longer required at Beauxbatons. Well, good riddance! Needless to say my family is not overly pleased by this turn of events. Not that they mind my actions, but they do resent the fact that I got caught. Therefore I have returned home in severe Disgrace, and as I write this I have been exiled to sleep in the Family Crypt, for wich I am grateful. I admit that the dampness of the place is an inconvenience, but I have managed to smuggle down a load of intresting books and it is a relief to be able to mind my own business without tedious supervision and without the antics of Aunt Influenza whose mental condition has detoriated even further down the hill.  
  
Dear Diary.   
The hour is late and I find myself unable to sleep. This is a good time to list the aspects of Beauxbatons that are worth getting expelled from:1. the frilly and rediculous robes I was required to wear.2. the simpering dimwits I had for room mates.3. all the fake pleasantries.4. the rigidity of their pathetic rules.5. all the cowards who have failed to appreciate me. However, I do have to admit I will miss the food. It was excellent.Speaking of food; I would die for a Croissant at this moment. Life in the Crypt does not includeHigh Cuisine, that's for sure. It is all for my best, I know. I do not complain. maybe I will manage to get hold on some Flabberworms tomorrow.  
  
Dear Diary.   
In order to kill time I have decided to create some poetry.

_**Ode To Potions:**   
Whether it's an owl or elf arriving late   
Pesky Garden Gnomes or a wand that's second rate   
Or some slutty witch who dumps me because I'm underweight:   
Morty solves his problems with a potion   
Morty solves his problems with a potion   
Morty solves his problems with a potion   
And he never has the same problem twice!   
He just goes: brew, stir, boil, SERVE   
Problem solved._

Dear Diary!   
This morning I recieved an owl carrying a message stating that I have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. It is a fairly prestigious Place of Education situated in Britain, and I am invited to study there, beginning next term. My parents must have been notified as well, since they had the grace to return my wand (that has been confiscated until just an hour ago).I am still confined to the Crypt, but in addition to the wand I am now allowed to keep a pillow and a blanket. Needless to say I am rather relieved. Sometimes I have visualized the nightmare scenario of not beeing allowed to continue my studies anywhere. Also, I have been feeling awkward and sort of naked without my wand. Life is improving.  
  
Dear Diary.   
There are Muggles about! As I went out on a stroll to hunt for some food I spotted them. An entire Muggle family trespassing on our land! It is most _**disgusting**_ and at this moment I am still _reeling_ from the chock.There are four of them; two adult Muggles and two small Muggle children. They have set up a crude tent on the outskirts of our property, and they are sporting a Muggle artefact that looks like a huge metallic box on four wheels.I have heard them and they are obviously not French Muggles. They speak English with a strange pronounciation. What are they doing here? How did they manage to venture into our property? It must be an accident. Sometimes our borderline sort of blends in with the outside world. What irks me is that the local Muggles in surrounding villages usually go out of their way to stay out of the Malaterre area, but these people have just clambered in. The only reasonable explanation is that they are indeed foreigners; they don't know better. Well, It would be in their best intrests to leave the area as soon as possible. It will only be a matter of time until the rest of my family discovers them as well.  
  
Dear Diary.   
Something unpleasant occured today. I left the Crypt in the early afternoon. Walking about and minding my own business I suddenly got the notion that I just as well might go check if that Muggle family has had the good sense to pack up and leave.They had not. They were hanging out by their pathetic little tent, chatting and laughing and acting as if they owned the place.Shadowed by the trees I was watching and listening from a distance. I saw the youngest Muggle child (just a toddler, actually) cradled by the Muggle mother as the Muggle father prepared supper by a small fire. The smell of that food was torture. It invaded my nostrils and made my stomach burn with longing. I wanted to turn my back and leave, but somehow I was glued to the spot. I felt fascinated and sickened by their healthy cheerfulness.The older Muggle child was fidgeting with a ball some distance from the others. It appeared to be a girl aged six or seven. Suddenly she lifted her head and gazed straight at me. To make it even worse she extended her hand and waved at me! For several moments I stared back at her, frozen. Then I shrank further into the safety of the shadows and left as fast as I could.  
  
---- _diary entry scribbled late at night_ ---  
  
They make me sick. Just the memory of that la-di-dah-aren't-we-the-happiest- family-there-ever-was-display! I am choking on it. I try to think about something else but the image keep popping up. The image of them in the sunlight and me in the shadows. Light and Darkness. That Muggle child waving as if she was beckoning me into their cosy crowd, into their light. And me standing there in my own darkness.I hope they get lost in the fog. I sincerely hope they get stuck in the swamps.  
  
Dear Diary.   
Oh, happy surprise: the ghosts are throwing a party in the Family Crypt and I am so Not Invited. They told me to go play elsewhere. Well, _excuse me_, I just happen to live here, I said. A semi- transparent Mortdebois in eleventh century robes told me to get a life. Well, never mind _me_. Never mind the late hour and the rain and that I've had to walk two miles in order to find a decent **_cave_** for shelter.  
I ask myself if my situation can possibly get more depressing. I am not sure I want to know the answer.


End file.
